Far Away
by littlestephhy
Summary: Jo died. He watched it happen; watched as her life was taken away from her! So, how is it possible? How is it possible that the woman he has secretly loved since their first meeting is now standing in front of him; a ghost? And how can he get her back? Dean&Jo.
1. A Small Photograph

He was drinking more. A lot more. He wanted to stop but he just- it wasn't easy.

God, that sounded so stupid! Of course it wasn't easy! How in the hell, could he ever have thought this would be easy? Of all the people in the world, if anyone knew how difficult it was to let go, it was Dean Winchester.

And by God, it hurt. Not the bruises that covered his body or the blood that stained his skin, oh no; none of that hurt. How could any form of physical harm pain him when his heart was shattering inside of his chest? The answer was plain and simple: it couldn't.

She was gone. He had watched her life seep out of her with every passing second and had done nothing to stop it. To save her.

But what could he have done? Fight the will of Joanna Beth Harvelle? No man in their right mind was that brave! And her mother? Well, Ellen was the kind of woman who could have monsters running for the hills with a single look. Oh no; no one messed with the Harvelle women. Not when they'd made up their minds. Even when you were trying to be the hero...when you were trying to save their goddamn lives, they still found time to be stubborn. Especially Jo.

But he supposed that was what had drawn him to her in the first place. Her determination and sense of righteousness. Jo knew the difference between right and wrong and she never strayed from that path. Refused to even place her foot on the wrong side of the tracks. And he admired that. How could he not? His life was an endless circuit of fighting monsters and getting drunk. There was no time for thinking or weighing the consequences. No time for change. No room for it. And at first, Dean had thought he didn't need it. Change was big and scary and it could ruin a life in a matter of seconds. His parents, for example, had been perfectly happy until Azazel had swanned on into his mothers life. And everything had been downhill from there. One small hiccup along the way had gotten his mother killed, driven his father into a mad lust for revenage and pushed he and his brother into a life they may never have known. One hiccup was all it took.

Jo was his hiccup. It almost sounded like a regret. Like meeting Jo Harvelle was something he wished had never happened. If only that were the truth. But no. Meeting Jo had been- it had been eye-opening to say the least. From the second he felt that rifle in his back, the moment he heard her voice; he knew his world was going to change. And change it had.

It was only a small photograph. But it was all he needed. All he wanted. He couldn't even remember when it had been taken but it didn't really matter. All he knew was that every ounce of hope, every pinch of faith and every grain of love that was left inside of his wilting body, was there because of that photograph.

The image was a simple black and white composition and depicted himself and Jo. They were stood by Bobby's fridge. Jo was holding a bottle of beer and wearing his favourite smile. Her eyes were locked on his, bright with amusement even in the colourless photo. Dean himself was standing with his back pressed against the counter. He could still feel the marble pressing against his lower back. His eyes were focused on her lips and he was holding a beer bottle of his own. There were so many unspoken words. So many things he should have said right then. But instead, he had attempted to win her over with a charming smile and a cheesy pick-up line that wasn't even his! He didn't know why he thought it would work. Maybe because the first time he had heard the 'Last Day On Earth' speech, it had come from an angel. But that shouldn't mean anything. And he shouldn't have tried to win Jo's heart with a line that had lured him into bed with another woman. That was a cheap and stupid move to begin with.

The Winchester flicked the cold metal lid of his lighter back and forth. Igniting and extinguishing the flame. He could see them now. Engulfing the small picture; obscuring that pretty face. Taking away all remaining evidence of Jo's existence. Well, all remaining physical evidence anyway. If he could have one last wish, it would be that the picture was in colour.

Raising his lighter, Dean flicked the lid a final time. The small flame flickered next the bottom right corner of the photograph and he couldn't help but suck in a final breath. His eyes closed tightly and he fought desperately to stop the tears. He had to let her go. He had to!

"Goodbye, Jo." the eldest Winchester whispered, raising the lighter.

"No; please!" A voice shrieked, causing Dean to still his moments. That voice; it was a woman's. But, not just any woman. He knew that voice. But- but it was impossible!

Eyelashes fluttering abruptly, his eyelids snapped open, shining green eyes focusing on a certain blurry blonde standing before him. Her arms were straight out in front of her, palms facing him but fingers curled slightly, as if reaching for the photo. Her blonde curls were strewn across her shoulders and she looked perfectly healthy if not clothed in the same outfit she had died in. But how? It was impossible! She was dead!

"Jo?"


	2. Whiskey And Gun Powder

Dead. She was dead! How in the hell did that happen? When and why? There were so many questions. So many answers that she desperately wanted. That she would never get.

The room was small and dark. A room shoved way at the back of Bobby's house. Way out of the way of anyone who might want to ask if he was okay. Not that it seemed to matter to him; she could only assume he had picked this little back room because he wanted to be alone. To be away from everyone who would try to tell him that it was going to be okay and that it was a great loss and the Harvelle's would be missed. She was pretty sure those were the words he didn't want to hear. Not right now anyway.

And she couldn't blame him! How could she? She had just died! Like, literally just yesterday and Sam and Bobby were acting like nothing had happened! They had burned the photograph Bobby had forced them to take and tried to move on. They were moving on! How dare they!

It wasn't like Joanna Beth Harvelle went down easy! They should know better than that. Oh no; she'd be damned if she was going to lay there and let some stupid Hellhound tear her apart! Of course, the second those razor claws pierced her skin, she knew she was going to die. But that didn't mean she was giving up without a fight. And fight she did.

Jo could still feel his arms around her. Lifting her up and carrying her to safety. She could still feel his lips on hers; taste the whiskey and smell the gun powder. God, it was perfect. If she was going to be an invisible force for the rest of her- wait! If she was ghost, did that mean she was currently living her afterlife? How was it possible that she was a ghost in the first place? Her mother had blown them up: no remains. Burning the remains should have cancelled out all chances of becoming any kind of supernatural creature!

There had to be something else! Something that was keeping her here! Come to think of it, how had she ended up back in Bobby's any way? And with Dean? This had to be some kind of torture. She was in Hell. She had to be in Hell because this was not possible! This was cruelty.

Dean's voice caught the blonde's attention and coffee black eyes raised to find the Winchester holding a lighter near a small photograph. The light from the flame let Jo see the image that had reduced the bravest man she had ever known to tears.

Them. Standing in Bobby's kitchen when Dean had seriously thought the 'Last Night On Earth' speech would work on her. She felt like crying; could ghosts cry? Dean was crying. She could see the shining liquid in his eyes even if he was trying to hide it.

Jo dropped her eyes again as the movement of the flame caught her eyes. Dean raised the lighter to the corner of the picture, preparing to burn it. No! No, he couldn't do that! He had to help her; he had to help her find out what was happening to her!

Jo reached out, trying to grab the photograph. That of course, failed. And so she yelled.

"No; please!" she shrieked, attempting to grab the picture again. But it moved out of her reach, away from her. Just as the lid of the lighter closed and Dean's body fell limp. Jo raised her eyes to find him looking- no, staring at her. He looked like his heart had just been ripped out of his body.

"Jo?" he asked, sounding almost breathless. She sucked in a breath.

"Dean."


	3. The Coming Storm

"How?" came Dean's voice. It was loud and angry. Fierce yet scared. No, not scared: terrified.

That was stupid, of course he was scared! What was he supposed to feel? Joy? Relief? That would be a stupid move on his part. Any hunter in the world knew it was idiotic to take things at face value; there was always a catch. It was for that reason that she said nothing. That she did not move or try to explain. She had to let him try to comprehend what was happening. She had to let him come to terms with that fact that- well that she was dead. That she was a ghost.

However, things never go the way they are supposed to. She should have expected as much. Dean loved a good rant, after all.

"You're dead." he spoke and Jo reluctantly nodded her head but said nothing. Dean repeated his statement and Jo could sense the coming rage, no: the coming storm. It took only a matter of seconds for his temper to flare up.

"Is this supposed to be funny?" the Winchester yelled, jumping to his feet and storming forward. The small blonde leaned back, somewhat scared of his actions despite knowing he could not physically touch her let alone harm her. Not yet at least.

Dean reached out, his arm swiping at a bedside table and knocking the contents to the floor. A large, porcelain lamp, several photographs and an empty whiskey glass tumbled down, shattering.

"Dean, stop." Jo whispered, feeling tears prick her eyes. But when she reached up to wipe them away, she found nothing. So, ghosts could not cry; she was merely remembering the sensation of wanting to cry. Well that sucked.

"Stop?" he asked, laughing almost barbarically. "Why in the hell would I stop? I'm going insane! Insane people are allowed to have...mental break downs! Don't tell me to stop!" the Winchester snapped at her, causing the Harvelle girl to step back once again.

Dean surged past her, shoving his foot through the door of an old wardrobe and pulling the wood off of the top hinge. His fist then hit the mirror on the dresser, making Jo flinch.

"Dean, please! You're not insane so just stop!" she tried again, attempting to control the pure, unfiltered rage that was bubbling up inside of him. Her words proceeded to fall on deaf ears.

"I'm not insane?" he asked, spinning to face her. His eyebrows were raised so high they almost met his hairline. His eyes were shiny with unshed tears and there was a sad, yet somewhat savage smile on his lips.

"If I'm not insane, then I'm drunk. That's it; I'm hallucinating! I got drunk in Bobby's little back room and now you- you, Jo Harvelle of all the dead people in the world...have come to yell at me and tell me to get my head straight. Is that it? Are you here to yell at me, Jo?" Dean asked, moving towards her again. The tears were falling freely now.

"If you're gonna yell at me, then do it. It won't make a difference but it'll make me feel better. It's my fault you're dead- " the Winchester began his ramble but broke off abruptly. She knew which phase was coming now. The guilt.

"It's my fault." he repeated. "It's my fault you're dead! If I hadn't shot at that Hellhound- if I'd just pushed you a little harder; forced you out of that store! If I'd fought harder to save you; if I'd fought harder we wouldn't be here! You'd be here with me and I'd tell you everything, I swear! Everything you wanted me to tell you and I'd mean every word, Jo...you have to believe me! I'm so, so sorry, Jo-"

"Shut up!" the small blonde interrupted, cutting Dean off sharply and making him stare at her.

"I am dead, you idiot! And yes, it's your fault but I'm going to yell at you just to give you some sort of...self-satisfactory knowledge that I'm mad at you! And I know you're sorry, Dean but if you don't shut up, right now, then someone is going to hear you and then Sam and Bobby are going to burst through that door and what do you think they're going to say when they see me? Dead, Dean! Jo Harvelle, the ghost standing in Bobby's little back room! They're going to be pissed and they're going to get rid of me! I don't want to die Dean; not again! So shut up before someone hears you!"

Dean nodded before shaking his head.

"I won't say nothin'." he spoke, sucking in a breath in an attempt to let his voice return to the rough, gravelly tone they were both used to.

"I promise." he added, attempting to give her a small smile.

"I know." Jo smiled back, nodding her head. "And when you calm down, we can talk. You can ask whatever you want and I'll tell you everything."


	4. Revelations And Interruptions

"So, you're dead; a...a ghost?" Dean asked for the fifth time in three minutes.

"Yes, Dean; I'm dead. You know that. You gave me the trigger, remember?" Jo asked, raising an eyebrow, as if questioning his sanity.

"I prefer not to think about it." the male answered honestly, letting out a long breath.

Jo knew this was hard for him. She understood and was trying to be patient. Really, she was but he was making it so hard. She'd have thought that after watching the store explode, it would have been pretty obvious there was no possible way she could have escaped. Especially not with three great claw marks in her side, tearing her flesh apart. But still, she tried to be patient.

"But how? I mean...the store- it exploded! Sammy and me...we watched it. I gave you the trigger and we ran and, and then- " Dean trailed off, unable to repeat his earlier statement. They both knew what had happened. They were both well aware of how she died. That didn't mean it was any easier for them to talk about.

"I know." the blonde replied solemnly. Her eyes dropped to the carpeted floor of the room and a sigh escaped her lips. Strange how she could still sigh when there was no need for her to breathe. So what; she could sigh but she couldn't cry? That was ridiculous.

"I want to say something, Dean." the Harvelle girl admitted, looking up to the Winchester who was urrently running his thumb over the saved photograph of them.

"I want to say something that'll make this better. That'll help you see that it's not your fault and that I don't blame you but, Dean- I...I have no idea what to say!" she exclaimed, grasping helplessly at words that meant nothing. What was she supposed to say? 'I know you feel bad for handing me the trigger but I'm not mad that you accidentally got me killed' was not going to cut it.

A silence lingered between them. Dean was breathing hard and would often reach for the whiskey glass before realizing it was empty. As was the bottle. Jo, on the other hand, was totally silent. So silent that Dean felt the need to say something, anything to make sure she was still there. Still real and sitting next to him.

"Why aren't you mad at me? We both know it's my fault." his cracked voice sounded. Jo felt a shotting pain to her useless heart. He really was blaming himself. He wasn't handling this well at all. Maybe her unexpected appearance (for both of them) had only hurt him more. She wished she knew how to disappear; how to leave him in peace.

"It's not really your fault." the blonde retaliated quietly, afraid to raise her voice. "You thought you were doing the right thing; shooting at that stupid mutt. And when you fell, I...I knew you were done for. And I just- I couldn't imagine a world without you. I couldn't a world where Sam was alone; where people talked about Dean Winchester, the fallen hero instead of Dean Winchester, the feared hunter. I couldn't imagine waking up every day and realizing that I would never have that hope that I might see you again. So I tried to help but- but I wasn't paying attention. That's my fault Dean. Mine, not yours." Jo explained, whiskey tinted eyes raising to meet his. He wasn't looking at her though. His eyes were still on the photograph.

"I gave you the trigger. I didn't try to argue with you. The one time I should have fought harder to win a goddamn argument and look what it cost me!" Dean spoke, the beginning of a rant building up inside of him.

"You're dead,Jo! And it's my fault! I wanted to save you but I didn't try; I didn't fight hard enough to save you and now? Well now you're a ghost; something I'm supposed to hunt down and kill, Jo! You're practically-"

"Prey?" Jo finished his sentence, shocking him into silence. The Winchester dropped his head into his hands and held his breath. Jo counted the second, wondering how long he would be silent for. He reached a total of forty-two seconds.

"I don't know what to do, Jo. What am I supposed to do?" he asked, sounding defeated.

"I don't know, Dean. But we'll figure something out. I promise." she spoke, a small smile brushing her lips.

Both parties were startled by a loud rattling on the door. Neither had heard the approaching footsteps. Neither had kept their voices very low.

"Dean, who are you talking to?" Sam's voice sounded from beyond the other side of the wooden barrier.

This wasn't going to end well.


	5. A Double Confrontation

"What do we do?" Dean asked, looking panicked.

"How should I know? I'm dead!" Jo countered, her natural 'know-it-all' expression taking over her features.

"Right, you're dead! So...disappear! You know, be invisible or whatever!" the Winchester spoke, his fearful eyes lighting up with hope. She was going to hate herself for crushing that hope.

"I don't know how." the blonde whined, sounding almost apologetic. "And even if I did, there's no guarantee I'd be able to reappear; I don't even know how I did it the first time." she admitted, resisting the urge to drop her head in defeat.

"Dammit!" Dean yelled. This was not going well. Nothing ever did.

"Dean?" Sam's voice sounded again. Both Dean and Jo looked towards the door. A barely audible scratching sound could be heard in the silence. Brown eyes and green eyes fell to the door knob at the same time. It was moving. Well, shit!

"Dean, I'm coming in so...stop whatever it is you're doing." Sam spoke and Jo had to resist the urge to laugh. She got the feeling the brothers found themselves in situations like this often.

"Don't laugh!" Dean snapped in a hushed voice after Jo let a giggle escape. Her eyes turned back to the eldest Winchester. Her smile fell immediately when she saw the genuine fear in his eyes. Dean was terrified.

"I'm sorry but- Dean, what are we going to do?" she asked, panic rising in her own voice. It was strange that Dean could still have an effect on her even though she was dead. But his eyes lit up at her words and Jo couldn't help but think Dean had just suffered a stroke of genius; something that didn't happen often.

"Hide!" he exclaimed, looking almost excited.

"Hide?" she asked, feeling the urge to laugh again. "We've been over this, remember? I don't know how." she reminded him, rolling her eyes. Dean, on the other hand, was shaking his head.

"No, I mean literally. Just hide!" he clarified. Jo's eyebrows furrowed and she glared at him.

"What am I? A cheap one stand?" she asked skeptically. Dean wiggled his eyebrows and let his eyes momentarily trail her body. She looked pretty good for a dead girl.

"If that's what you wanna be." he spoke suggestively. It was astounding that even in a panicked fenzy like this, Dean found time to make provocative implications. A truly amazing talent.

Jo rolled her eyes and tutted at the Winchester but turned to find somewhere to hide any way. She moved at the same time as the door opened.

Crouching behind the destroyed dresser, Jo watched as Sam Winchester stepped into the room. His eyes were rimmed red and his hair was messy. He'd been crying. For what? Now Jo was curious.

"You okay, Dean?" Sam asked, studying his brother precariously.

"You look like you've been crying. And what the hell did you do to Bobby's back room?" the younger Winchester spoke, eyeing the room almost suspiciously.

"Me? You don't look so hot yourself." Dean retaliated and Jo smiled. His ability to throw the focus off of himself often impressed her yet annoyed her all at once.

"Ellen and Jo just died, Dean. How do you think I'm doing?" Sam asked sarcastically. Jo could almost see the mask being pulled away from Dean right then.

"I know what happened, Sam. And it's our- it's my fault! I got Jo killed. Ellen too. So don't ask me if I'm okay! It's my fault, Sam and that is not okay!" Dean ranted.

Sam took a step back, seemingly surprised by his brother's outburst. Jo on the other hand, leaned a little further forward. She knew how Dean felt and it hurt her to think that he blamed himself for something that was her decision. She had told them to build the bombs; she had told him to give her the trigger. She wouldn't let him blame himself.

"Just go, Sammy." Dean pleaded, gripping the edge of the tightly and he began walking Sam out the door.

"I'll be fine. I'm outta whiskey so I'll be down soon anyways." Dean joked. Sam frowned but nodded his head, turning and making his way back down the hall.

Jo moved as soon as the door was closed. Dean turned slowly and almost jumped back when he found Jo standing directly in front of him.

"God, woman! Make some noise or somethin', would ya?" he spoke, eyes narrowed on her. But the expression faded as quickly as it had come.

The Winchester then attempted to step around the small blonde but she stepped with him, preventing him from going anywhere.

"You were scared." she spoke, raising an eyebrow as Dean feigned ignorance.

"I was not!" he replied, rolling hsi eyes at her and crossing his arms. A classic denial stance on Dean's part.

"You were! You were scared you were going to be caught, admit it!" Jo demanded, resisting the urge to stomp her foot. Dean rolled his eyes and side stepped her quickly.

"You're crazy." he spoke. Jo whirled around at the same time, arms crossing. Her left hip popped out and she tapped her toe against the carpet expectantly.

"Admit it! You were scared you were going to be caught, Dean; just say it!" she demanded again. It was Dean's turn to spin, eyes angry but features expressionless.

"No, Jo; I was scared you were going to be caught!"


	6. A Single Kiss

"What?" Jo asked, eyes narrowing as she attempted to fully understand the meaning of Dean's revelation. He was scared that she would be caught? But why?

"You heard me!" the Winchester almost snapped, breathing fast yet desperately trying to control his temper. She always seemed to bring out the fiercer side of him.

"I was scared that Sam would see you. I was terrified of what would happen if Sam found you!" Dean added, as if trying to explain.

"I don't understand." the blonde spoke, her voice illustrating her confusion. "If Sam had found me, you would be in a lot more trouble than me." she spoke. Dean scoffed and Jo found herself narrowing her eyes at him and speaking before she could help herself.

"You would! Do you know what would happen, Dean? I do: first, they would tell you that you're drunk and that I'm not real. But you can't be drunk forever so they'd eventually realize the truth. And then they'll tell you that you're doing something stupid. They'll tell you that you can't save a ghost; that it's ridiculous and absurd! They'll fill your head with words, telling you that I'm doomed to become just another vengeful spirit. That I'd eventually turn on you, just like they all do. Dean, they'll tell you that I think it's your fault I'm dead! They'll say I'll turn murderous and that I want to kill you because I blame you. And it may not be right away but eventually, you'll start to believe them. You'll start to doubt yourself and eveything you know about me. You'll start to doubt me, Dean. And I don't think I can take that."

As her rant ended, Jo brushed a hand through her hair. Dean watched in mild fascination as the blonde tendrils moved. He had never really thought of a ghost as a solid being. If Jo could move little things like her hair, he could only imagine what she could manage with some real power.

"I'd never doubt you, Jo." the Winchester offered, stepping forward. His expression softened as the girl turned her big brown eyes on him. He felt his heart melt a little at that moment.

"That truth is, Jo...I've doubted you before. The first time I doubted you, was when you held that stupid rifle in my back. A girl who can hold a rifle? I expected a flirty look to get it back but I should have known better; especially when that girl knows my father." he explained. Jo laughed a little and gave a small smile.

"And I doubted you when you played that stupid REO song. That seriously turned our relationship in a bad direction." he paused to smirk at her. "I doubted you when we worked that case on H. H. Holmes. I doubted you when Sam was possessed and you saved me from drowning and freezing to death. I doubted you when we went up against War and the town of fake demons. The one time, out of all the times we've been together, that I didn't doubt you- " Dean broke off, unsure as to whether or not he could finish. Jo, on the other hand, was now desperate. She stepped forward, her eyes pleading and her fingers interlocked just below her chest.

"When?" she asked. Her tone was so quiet and innocent that Dean knew couldn't deny her this one piece of information; this one truth. Especially when it was the only real thing he had to hold onto, himself.

"The one time I didn't doubt you was when I kissed you." he admitted, watching as her eyes widened.

"And the reason I didn't doubt you then was that, I knew. I knew that you were ready for it. With everything you had, you were going to fight until the end. You were so sure that there was no hope and you were still so strong, Jo. I didn't doubt you then because I knew that I couldn't." the Winchester further explained.

"I still don't understand." the blonde spoke. "I understand that you won't doubt me but...what does that have to do with Sam finding out about me?" she asked, eyebrows furrowing slightly.

"Everything, Jo. If Sam realizes he can't make me doubt you, he'll go behind my back. We've been together long enough for me to know that he'll do it because he thinks he's doing the right thing for me. But, Jo, that kiss made me realize so much more." Dean clarified, but Jo was still curious. He could see it in her eyes and wished desperately that she was alive. He wished so hard that she could stand before him now, living and breathing because if she was, he'd kiss her right then. It would be so much easier to show her what he had learned than to tell her. Dean had never been good with words, especially not when it came to Jo. Now he had to learn.

"When it comes down to it...I lost you once, Jo. I can't go through it twice."

A bruised silence hung in the air between them. Neither quite sure what to say in the tender situation. Neither entirely sure what was supposed to be said in the first place. Jo expected that had she still been able to touch the Winchester before her, she would have grabbed him and kissed him. But the world didn't work that way and so she'd have to settle for words. If only she could find any.

"I'm going to help you, Jo. I promise." Dean's whispered voice finally broke the prolonged silence.

"How?" Jo asked, sounding surprisingly sad for a dead girl supposedly incapable of human emotions any more.

"We'll find a way. I swear to you right now, Jo. We will figure this out. Together."


	7. It's About Jo

"I think it's the picture." Dean said absently.

Sam had been sitting at Bobby's kitchen table with his elder brother for the past hour. What had started out as a quiet yet tense breakfast had turned into a question-filled quiz based on a supposedly hypothetical theory.

It had started after Dean had asked Sam if he thought it was possible for a person to become a ghost even if they'd been blown up. While Sam knew his brother was talking about Jo, he said nothing and chose reply with yes: there was no reason it couldn't happen. When Dean had asked why his brother believed as such, Sam had replied that ghosts could become attached to all kinds of different things, not just their bodies and so it would be perfectly possible for the remains of a spirit to be an object or something like that. Dean had seemed satisfied with his brother's answer and they'd fallen into a comfortable silence yet again before the eldest Winchester mumbled about a picture.

"You think what's the picture?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow whilst getting up to put his plate in the sink.

"Oh, uh...nothing. It's not important." Dean replied, shrugging off the question nonchalantly. He couldn't let Sam know about Jo's sudden appearance three days prior. Jo, who was currently holed up in the back room, probably bored out of her mind. Still, she had insisted that Dean act normal and so he was trying. For her.

Sam had actually commented on Dean's strange behaviour. He had said that his brother seemed almost too happy. That he smiled a lot and laughed even more but there was still a shine of guilt and pain in his eyes. At that, Dean had rolled his eyes and told his brother to avoid the 'chick-flick' moment that was encroaching. Sam had narrowed his eyes on his brother and told him that it didn't matter how hard Dean tried, it was still obvious that he was jumpy and wanted to be alone. Once again, Dean mumbled about his brother being more feminine than he should be and had stalked off to the back room where Jo had laughed at him.

"Come on, Dean?" Sam asked, returning to the table and sitting across from his brother.

"What's up? Is this about Jo?" the younger Winchester asked, causing the elder to let his green eyes snap upwards, a look of complete horror on his face.

"Jo?" he asked, eyebrows almost touching his hairline. This only proved to make Sam even more suspicious.

"Yeah; Jo." Sam spoke. Dean's look of shock lasted a moment longer before he scoffed and lounged back in his chair lazily.

"There's nothing wrong, Sam. I mean, sure, Jo's death has me a little rattled but I'll be fine. Trust me." the eldest Winchester commented dryly, getting to his feet.

"I'll be fine." he repeated, leaving the kitchen slowly. However, as soon as he was out of Sam's earshot, Dean made his way to the back room as quickly as possible. He burst through the door, slamming it closed and scouring the room for the blonde he so desperately needed to see.

"What's up with you?" her light voice asked, catching his attention and causing his head to whirl to find her.

Jo stood in a shadowed corner. Her back was too him but her eyes were cast over her shoulder; focused on him. Although the curtains were closed, a sliver of morning sunshine broke through and illuminated her ghostly form. Dean swore she'd never looked more beautiful.

"It's the picture!" he exclaimed, catching Jo unawares and making her turn slowly, a look of confusion on her face.

"The thing that's keeping you here; I think it's the picture!"


	8. Ridiculously Wavy Hair

Jo's brows were furrowed considerably. Long, thick eyelashes cast a dark shadow on her pale skin whilst making those shining brown orbs seem almost black. Her somewhat blueish lips were partially parted, as if she were searching for something intelligent to say but was at a loss for words. She was obviously very confused; in a ghostly yet beautiful sort of way.

"I hate to kill your buzz so early in the mornin' Dean but uhm, what the Hell are you talking about?" the pretty blonde asked.

A small smile came across the eldest Winchester's lips as he stared across the room at the puzzled phantom in the corner. She was positively stunning. In the past three days since her sudden appearance, Dean had found himself downright dumbfounded by the dead girl. She looked no different sans a little human colouring. Otherwise, it would be easy to believe she was still alive and merely sick. He only wished he didn't know better.

"The picture, Jo! The picture; the one you saved!" the Winchester exclaimed, his voice raising slightly, causing a flash of panic to pass through Jo's eyes. Dean took the hint and cleared his throat before speaking again, his voice lowered.

"You remember when you first appeared?" he asked, continuing before she could answer. "You remember the picture I was holding; the one I was gonna burn?"

"Yes, Dean, I remember." Jo interrupted before he could continue. "But I don't see what that has to do with anything. So I stopped you from burning some old photo of us, so what?"

"Don't you see? It was the picture that brought you here, that's keeping you here! Jo, that's the only picture of us there is; quite literally the only one in existence! And when I almost burned it, you showed up! You stopped me! You saved that picture because it was the only thing keeping you here, even if you didn't know it!" Dean went on, almost rambling in his excited state.

Jo, on the other hand, was shaking her head. A picture? It just seemed so ridiculous. Ghosts were tied to remains, not pictures! Some of her blood or something had to have gotten on his jeans or his jacket or whatever. There was no way a picture was keeping her on Earth.

"Why are you shaking your head? Come on Jo, it wouldn't be the craziest thing that's ever happened to us." Dean spoke, a short, humourless laugh following the end of his sentence. Blonde waves still bounce back and forth on the ghost girls shoulders.

"A picture Dean? Really? You really think some little piece of photographic paper is keeping me trapped on Earth?" she asked, tilting her head and finally stepping forward. In such a small and simple movement, Jo managed to steal all the words from his brain and breath from his lungs. That sliver of sunlight came to split across her face, illuminating her normally dark eyes and giving them a whiskey coloured tint. Her eyelashes seemed darker and there were a severe lack of stress and worry lines crinkling her forehead. She looked somewhat peaceful. It was a look Jo Harvelle had not worn in a long time and one Dean was beyond happy to see.

The Winchester crossed the room and snatched up the small photograph. His fingers brushed the ink and the black and white image burned bright in his memory. Approaching Jo, he stopped a mere few inches before her and held the photo up in the space between them.

"Look at it." he spoke in a tone much more pleading and desperate than he had intended. Jo closed her eyes tightly, as if fighting tears. But after a few seconds of tender silence, the blonde revealed those whiskey tinted orbs and eyed the picture precariously.

"This is the only thing I have to remind me what you look like. This tiny little picture is the only thing that lets me see the way your ridiculously wavy hair sits on your shoulders and reminds me of just how wide you can smile when you know you're winning. This is the most valuable picture in the world to me. And you can't tell me that it's not important to you because if it's really just some 'old photo', you wouldn't have stopped me from burning it."

A heavy an bruised silence hung between them. Dean's deep green eyes were locked firmly on Jo's which were still scrutinizing the small picture before her. Several minutes passed with Dean breathing heavily while Jo barely breathed at all. Finally, she reached up. The action was slow and she was incredibly careful when taking the photograph from his hands; as if it were the most delicate thing in the world.

"So what if it is the picture?" the blonde girl asked, voice quiet and fragile as if she were breaking apart from the inside. His heart melted then.

"If it is the picture, so what? I mean, what are we supposed to do with it Dean? We can't protect it forever! It's a piece of goddamn paper! Eventually, it'll get ripped or burned or...or something and then I'll be gone! No more Jo, okay? If it is the picture that's keeping me here, you realize that this is so much easier to destroy than any kind of remains? If thise tiny little piece of paper falls into the wrong hands, my...afterlife, will literally hang in the balance! Dean, what- "

"Shut up Jo." the Winchester spoke, interrupting the rambling girl as if he had broken a casual silence. It was certainly effective if nothing else. Jo fell silent, eyes wide and fearfully innocent as she gazed up at Dean.

"If it is this picture, it's fragile. Like you. It's small and innocent and I will not let anything happen to it. And just like the first time you tricked me into letting you work a case, I'll do anything to protect it. Nothing will go wrong and I'll figure out a way to protect the picture so that it can never be destroyed. If this picture is what's keeping you here Jo, we just have to fight twice as hard to keep it. If it is this picture."


End file.
